


Love at First Bite

by stayfr0sty



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:29:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayfr0sty/pseuds/stayfr0sty
Summary: dont read this. it suckshaha
Kudos: 1





	Love at First Bite

Perfectly pale skin glistens in the dim light. The glow of the screen flickers, casting brief shadows on his face as digital guns fire and pixel blood splatters. The noise gives him a headache. In fact, so does the pulsing light. Covering his ears might help, or moving farther away from the screen...

No. He knows what he needs. But this "movie" (if one could refer to Thor: Ragnarok as a "movie" and not a cinematic dumpster fire) certainly isn't helping.

The sound of war abruptly cuts out as he clicks the space bar. It's quiet for a brief second, mercifully so, until Brendon's annoyingly loud voice breaks the silence.

"What?" he says impatiently. "I was enjoyin-"

"I don't," Dallon takes a breath, "I don't feel good."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dallon can see Brendon sit up from his previous position, reclining on his bed with his legs crossed and his back propped up by a mountain of pillows.

"What's wrong?" Brendon asks, pulling a blanket up to his chest. Dallon resists the urge to look at him. It'll make it worse. Even just sitting a few feet away from him is torture, trapped in this small room with a tightly-sealed window and one exit. But he's fine, he reminds himself. He's in control, he always is.

"Look, I'm just-"

Dallon hesitates. On one hand, he mostly keeps to himself about almost everything. He trusts Brendon, he always has, but some things are too intimate to share with his best friend. Some things are too embarrassing, like Dallon's irrational fear of worms. But some things are worse. Some things are inhuman.

"I'm just not feeling it." he says finally. "Do you want to, um.." He searches for the right words. Looking at the clock, it was 11 - late enough to suggest sleep. He could sneak out then.

With his resolve cemented, the sick feeling in his gut eases. An hour or so, and he could be satiated. An hour or so, and he'll be free of the urge to lunge at his best friend of five years and tear into his throat. Feeling better, he finally looks over at Brendon, who's looking at him like he's just a little insane.

"Do you want to go to bed? I'm just-" He fakes a yawn. "I'm just tired." 

Brendon's not fooled. In fact, the expression on his face only grows more incredulous.

"Are you?" He tilts his head. 

"Yeah," Dallon nods, "Time to hit the hay. You know?"

"You're not tired." Brendon states matter-of-factly.

"Yes... I am."

"No. No, you're not." He sounds more confident. "You don't _ever_ go to bed before 3 or 4, at the very least. You're..."

At this, Brendon's voice falters just a bit. "You're nocturnal, you know? You told me. You're supposed to- you know. You don't get tired."

Dallon looks down, a sharp stab of hunger piercing his torso. He shifts uncomfortably, the silence deafening. He should've known his excuse wouldn't fly, not with Brendon. They'd known each other for too long.

That, and it'd only been a couple of months since Dallon had disclosed to Brendon the fact that he's an undead creature of the night who survives on blood. Sure, he'd been scared at first. He'd peppered him with questions-

_"Do you drink blood?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Do you kill people? I bet it's a Twilight situation where you're a vegetarian vampire, right?"_

_"No. But if you mention Twilight again, I might make an exception."_

_"How come you age?"_

_"I'm not immortal."_

_"Why don't you sparkle in the sun?"_

_"I'm not answering that question."_

-and he'd quickly adjusted to the situation. However, they didn't discuss it much. Dallon found his condition repulsive - when he could, he'd avoid thinking about it altogether. He'd push off feeding for days and days, the act leaving him sick and disgusted whenever he fed. He hadn't lied to Brendon. He didn't kill. But there was something terribly wrong with leaving a woman's body unconscious and limp in an alley in downtown Los Angeles. Even if he called 911, even if he anonymously alerted the police, he felt like a monster.

So. Dallon didn't talk about it. And now, with Brendon looking at him expectantly, he felt a tinge of that awful, terrible sickness that stayed with him days after feeding.

He'd done this to himself, though. If he'd just knuckled down and fed before he drove to Brendon's house, he wouldn't be feeling the sharp points of his fangs digging down into his lip. He wouldn't be fixating on the thump of Brendon's heartbeat, or the faint scent of his breath. And he wouldn't be struggling for a response that didn't involve mentioning his hunger.

Reluctantly, he settled on the truth.

"I'm hungry," he said quietly.

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you want me to heat up some- Oh." Then, Brendon was quiet.

"I'm sorry," Dallon said slowly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't involve you in this. I think I need to-"

"Hold on," Brendon interrupted, "Is this... like, urgent? Do you need.."

"Yeah. Yeah, I need, uh. Blood. Yeah," Dallon muttered, looking anywhere but Brendon's eyes - firstly, because of temptation, and secondly, because he had never felt more awkward or embarrassed in his life.

Brendon's silence stings. So, Dallon stands, pushing the desk chair back.

"So, um," he swallows. "I'll be back. In a few hours. I think."

"A few hours?" Brendon asks.

"Yeah. I need, um. I need to find someone."

Continuing to avoid eye contact, Dallon moves to grab his coat resting on the bed. It would be a long night.

Brendon's hand grabs his arm, fingers gripping Dallon's slender wrist. He flinches, eyes wide as he turns to face the boy now sitting on the edge of the bed.

Looking up at him, Brendon says, "It's late. You won't be safe out there."

Amazingly, Dallon finds it in him to laugh. "I think I'll be just fine," he says, smiling just enough for Brendon to catch a glimpse of his fangs. He'd only shown him once before, and the other had been fascinated. While Dallon hates himself for what he is, he has to admit, he feels a certain kind of confidence when Brendon admires his strength. But he doesn't have time to unpack that.

"Wait," Brendon says, fingers digging deeper into Dallon's arm, "Why don't you just..." He motions with his other hand to his neck. "You know. Use me."

If Dallon had a working heart, it would've stopped at the words "Use me." Suddenly, all he could focus on was Brendon's heartbeat, and the scent of his cologne, and the warm flush of his skin, and the curve of his lips-

He realizes he's been quiet for too long. "Um," he says hoarsely. "Um, I.."

"Why not?" Brendon asks him, looking up at him with _those_ goddamn eyes.. "I don't mind. I'd rather you stay here and be safe and, you know, comfortable. I don't want you out... roaming the streets." He laughs.

"Because," Dallon stutters, "Because. Because, you know, I- That's. Uh, it-"

"You told me before that it doesn't hurt. Because of your, you know... saliva or whatever." Brendon says reasonably.

In the back of his mind, Dallon's faintly surprised that Brendon remembered.

"But," Dallon swallows, "But I don't-" He couldn't come up with a reason not to. He wouldn't lose control, he knew that, but.. The thought of being that close to Brendon was too much to bear. Even the mere idea of their bodies that close, his lips on Brendon's skin... He sharply inhales.

"Dallon," Brendon says softly, tugging him just a bit closer, "I want you to."

Dallon allows himself a moment of hesitation. Surely not, surely this wouldn't be okay-

And yet.

"Tell me when it's too much," he says breathily, voice low. "Tell me- you know, um. When to stop. I'll- I won't hurt you."

"I know," Brendon tells him. He smiles.

With just that smile, Dallon's defenses break down.

"Thank you," he breathes out. With shaky, unsure hands, he reaches to touch Brendon's shirt. "You'll need-"

"I know." Brendon repeats, fingers daintily unbuttoning his polo to expose his neck and collarbone. Dallon can taste him just from looking at him.

Restraint. That's what he needs. Restraint. This is his best friend, after all. Just a quick bite, and..

"Maybe, um.. scooch a little?" Dallon suggests, his voice all trembly as he moves to stand in front of Brendon. The other's legs slot in between his, Dallon practically straddling the boy on the edge of the bed.

They're closer now, much closer. Brendon's soft eyes are looking up at him, lips parted and glistening. Oh, God. Dallon looks him up and down. This isn't intimate, this is-

"Fuck," he sighs, "I-" He can't take it. Red blinding his vision, Dallon sinks his fangs into the sweet spot just above Brendon's collarbone. The other gasps, instantly melting against Dallon. His shaky hands rest on Dallon's hips, but Dallon's too overwhelmed to even notice. Brendon's hands squeeze his hips tight, maybe out of pain, or maybe out of pleasure. Dallon sighs, mumbling something incoherent that maybe sounds like Brendon's name.

After the initial rush of blood, Dallon's a tad bit calmer. If calm could even begin to describe what he's feeling. Brendon tastes so sweet, like cotton candy or chocolate, almost sickeningly so. All Dallon can focus on is the blood seeping down his throat and Brendon's body pressed against his, his heartbeat drowning out Brendon's little gasps. Dallon pushes against him, lapping up the blood and pulling Brendon ever closer to him.

Thinking is a foreign concept to him now. All he knows is Brendon, and the taste of him, and his scent, and the way he's twitching in his arms. Hunger defines him, but maybe hunger wouldn't be the right word, not when he's beginning to notice Brendon's soft gasps and whines. Suddenly, Dallon feels an overwhelming _need:_ and it's not just the need for blood. He'd feel guilty - after all, this is his best friend - but something tells him that he's not the only one feeling this way.

Namely, Brendon's desperate hands pulling Dallon onto him. The pair falls onto the bed, Dallon's lanky body splayed across Brendon's twitching frame. Again, he'd feel bad if it weren't for Brendon tugging his hips slightly to the left, Dallon's leg slotting in between Brendon's thighs. He can feel him, hard and needy.

Dallon's coherent enough to know that this is more than just friend behavior. It takes all of his willpower, but he pulls away from Brendon's skin, lapping up the excess blood before making eye contact with him. Brendon's smiling, lips parted and a dreamy, hungry look in his eyes.

"Bren," Dallon says slowly.

"Dal," Brendon breathes, "Dallon, keep going. Please."

Dallon's eyes flicker down to Brendon's neck, then to his leg between Brendon's thighs.

"Do you mean.." he trails off.

"I mean," Brendon pants, "I mean, feed on me, but..." He pauses. 

"Please touch me," he whispers. "I don't care, just- I need..." He whimpers. "I need you."

As if Dallon needed any more convincing.

Of its own accord, his hand reaches up to grab Brendon's jaw, his nails digging into the boy's flushed cheek. His thumb swipes over Brendon's lower lip, and he could've sworn he heard Brendon giggle.

"I said keep going," Brendon whispers, and with a teasing crook of his lips, he takes Dallon's finger in his mouth.

Dallon gasps without realizing it. He's stunned, taking in the sight, but there are more important matters at hand, and he's still so desperately hungry it hurts. His lips settle back into that sweet spot, the now-familar taste of Brendon's blood filling his mouth. He pushes another finger into Brendon's mouth, and he's rewarded with a high-pitched whimper. He shifts, pushing forward against Brendon. He whimpers again, hips bucking forward to grind against Dallon's thigh.

Thank God he's good at multitasking. Dallon grinds down against him, panting out " _Fuck, I- Bren-_ " before shoving his fingers down Brendon's throat. He smiles against his skin as he hears the boy choke, gagging on his fingers like nothing else in the world mattered. Dallon takes a sharp breath before pulling his hand out.

He looks up at Brendon, a crooked smile on his bloodstained lips. Brendon's indignant look fades to a smile as Dallon promises, "I said I'd touch you, didn't I?"

He can't resist Brendon's angelic smile. And, well, given that he seems to be down for anything.. Dallon pushes himself up and kisses him. Brendon whines, grinding against his leg harder and harder. He takes this as a sign to slip his hand down, fumbling with the zipper of Brendon's jeans.

Blood intermingles with their lips, and Dallon pulls away to whisper, "Do you taste yourself?"

Brendon nods frantically, and he grins. His hand slowly, carefully grazes the waistband of Brendon's boxers.

"Please," Brendon whines. It's all the invitation Dallon needs. Their lips meet as he slips his hand under, Brendon desperately grinding against his hand the second he makes contact. Dallon hardly has to do anything - Brendon thrusts up into his hand, whimpering and using Dallon to get himself off.

Dallon hardly minds - it gives him an opportunity to lick at the bite, Brendon's blood overwhelming his senses once again as he pants against his skin. Brendon's whining in his ear, begging Dallon to stroke him faster, but he's so needy, he doesn't need Dallon's help. Dallon can sense, he can tell that Brendon's almost overstimulated, and he uses that to his advantage. Abruptly sitting up and letting go, Dallon moves back on the bed, settling between Brendon's thighs.

"Off." he says simply, eyes flickering to Brendon's pants. Brendon obliges, struggling a bit but finally flinging his jeans across the room. Dallon's consumed with the urge to taste him, to pleasure him, to make him feel good - after all, Brendon so kindly offered his blood. What kind of friend would Dallon be if he didn't do something for him in return?

Dallon's fangs retract just enough to avoid causing Brendon any pain. He kisses his inner thighs, leaving a few playful marks before taking him in his mouth. Brendon covers his mouth with his hand, stifling a moan.

"Oh, fuck, Dallon, I-" he chokes out, hips bucking into Dallon's mouth. Dallon gags, but he could hardly mind, not when Brendon's squirming beneath him and his cock is in his mouth. Dallon's not one for bottoming, but he could never give up an opportunity to taste Brendon and make him feel good. He whimpers, forcing Brendon deeper down his throat, and he can tell Brendon likes it when the other lets out a yelp.

He's close, Dallon knows, and he grips his thighs, sharp nails leaving indents as he gags on him. Tears form in the corners of Dallon's eyes as Brendon throatfucks him, making these adorable little whines that Dallon can't help but to admire. Dallon's not exactly a stranger to bodily fluids, and he couldn't be anything but appreciative when Brendon cums down his throat. He gives him a moment, only pulling off when he can tell he's just too stimulated.

Brendon's sweaty and panting, body trembling as he comes down from his orgasm. Dallon takes this opportunity to settle back down besides him, pulling him close and letting him rest his head on Dallon's chest.

For now, he'd let Brendon sleep. The conversation about what just happened could wait.


End file.
